


It Didn't Mean Anything

by ingberry



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boss/Employee Relationship, Forced Bonding, Holidays, M/M, Magic, Pining, Winter, mention of Arthur/Vivian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 13:24:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingberry/pseuds/ingberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin Emrys: receptionist at Camelot Inn and magic user in training, not yet certified. When something unexpected happens, Merlin has to use his magic to save Arthur. It has rather impractical consequences, to say the least. Merlin’s not entirely sure how they’re both going to get through this with their sanities intact.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Didn't Mean Anything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaseyStar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyStar/gifts).



> Dearest CaseyStar. It’s been a lot of fun looking through your likes and prompts to find out what to write! You mentioned Merlin as Arthur’s PA, or similar, and I took the spirit of that and went with an employer-employee thing in the shape of an Inn! I also added some winter/holiday elements, magical bonding, a little jealousy and pining. And here we are :D
> 
> I hope you like it, and I hope your holidays have been great!
> 
> Thanks a million times over to M, G and A for their invaluable help. Thanks especially to A for her many, many helpful suggestions.

“You’re stressed,” Merlin says, eyebrows raised, when Arthur pushes him out of the way and kneels by the front desk, rummaging through the shelves under the counter. 

“ _Winter festival_ , Merlin. Do you need reminding?”

“Of course not. Mithian’s throwing every spare ingredient we have around the kitchen trying to make the perfect Christmas pudding.” Merlin leans over Arthur’s head to pick up the receiver of the ringing phone. “Camelot Inn, how can I help you?”

He only catches the first half of the lady’s request as Arthur shoots up from the floor and gets tangled in the phone cord. Batting his hands at Arthur to get him to duck, he lifts the cord over Arthur’s head. 

“Sorry, ma’am, we’re all booked for the festival.”

“Oh dear, really?” She says, heaving a sigh. “I knew I should have called last week.”

“I’m afraid we’ve been full for a month.” Merlin waves at Arthur and motions for the notepad at the other end of the desk. “Let me take your number and I’ll let you know if we have any cancellations, but you’re fifth in line, I’m afraid.”

He scribbles hastily on the pad Arthur stuck into his hands before hanging up, having to pass Arthur the receiver. 

“You do realise cordless phones exist, right?” Merlin says, throwing the notepad aside. 

“They cost money and our phone works just fine.” 

“Sure. A cordless phone is a right fortune these days.” Merlin reaches for the remainder of his now lukewarm coffee. 

“Remember we have to decorate the barn later. Or at least figure out what to do with it.” 

“I remember.”

“Have you—”

“Yes,” Merlin cuts in, rolling his eyes. “Yes, I’ve done whatever it is you’re going to ask me. Yes, I’ve done all the other things you’re going to ask me later. Please stop asking.”

Arthur’s expression is pinched as he leans one elbow onto the counter, giving Merlin a frustrated look. Behind him, Merlin can see the lads moving around the entrance hall with long, thick garlands that seem less than practical. There’s no doubt that Arthur’s going to tell them to re-do them at least twice, no matter how precise Gwen’s instructions are. 

Of course, whenever Merlin tries to restore sanity to the establishment, the answer he gets is always “ _winter festival_ ” (said much in the same way as one would say _Lord Voldemort_ ). 

“Stop hovering,” Merlin says. When Arthur moves to speak, he holds his hand up and says, voice low: “And don’t you dare ask me again if I’ve done it.”

Arthur’s phone goes off and he slips his hand into his jeans pocket, his eyes still on Merlin. “I’ll be holding you personally responsible for that.” He swipes across the screen. “Every single thing you’ve forgotten to do comes straight out of your salary.”

“Best boss ever.” Merlin rolls his eyes and double checks the booking list again because he knows that’s what Arthur was going to ask about. He feels it in his bones. 

Arthur ignores him, and all Merlin hears before he’s alone in the reception area is the quiet, “Hi, Vivian.”

Merlin pauses and shakes his head. If Vivian’s coming, he’s quitting.

***

When Merlin manages to sneak past Arthur (predictably ordering the lads to redo the garlands), he slips into the kitchen to find Elena sitting on the counter, kicking her feet. The sharp daylight slants in through the window and illuminates Elena’s hair so it looks like a big ball of lit-up yarn.

He presses a finger to his lips as he tiptoes over to the coffeemaker, and she gives him an amused look. Her laugh rings out when Mithian suddenly pops up from her spot behind the counter and Merlin jumps, coffee nearly spilling over his mug. 

“Hi, Merlin!” Mithian blows hair out of her face. She pulls a bowl closer and starts adding flour to it. It rises like puffy white clouds when she pours, biting her lip as she stares intently at the process. “Arthur’s looking for you, I think.”

“Why do you think I’m here?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I thought you were here to eat all of my ginger snaps, as usual.” She waves her hand. “Hand me the milk? It’s at the other end. Elena stole it.”

“Winter festival, Merlin!” Elena wiggles her fingers at him as he passes her to get the stolen goods. “We need your magic.”

“I wasn’t hired for my magic. Besides, the lads already do pretty well with putting up the ice rink for the skating, and the stalls for the market.”

Mithian sends him a look, measuring up the milk with what always looks to Merlin as complete and utter carelessness. “Not the terms I heard, kid.”

“I’m hired as a receptionist, thanks. And I’m older than you!”

Huffing stray hair out of her face again, Mithian slides her hands over her apron and leaves streaks of flour down the front. She pulls a face at him and says, “Not in spirit.”

“Oh, come on,” Elena says. “It might even snow! And imagine everything we’d get done if you’d just wave your hands a little.”

“I’m not even fully trained. It’s a bit of a risk blowing up the entire place for the sake of a festival.”

“You’re a real drama queen,” Elena says with raised eyebrows. 

He barely suppresses the urge to stick his tongue out at her, and he’s glad he did, because there’s a cough from behind him, followed by an exasperated, “Merlin.” 

Oh, joy of all joys. Merlin closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. 

“Stop holding up the kitchen and start doing what I pay you for.”

When Merlin turns around, Arthur is standing in the doorway, his hair in complete disarray and his nose red from the cold. 

“What you _barely_ pay me for,” Merlin corrects as he sets the remainder of his blissful coffee on the counter.

Arthur rolls his eyes and turns. “Just come help me set up the barn before I have a stroke. Sefa’s looking after the desk.” 

As they move through the tables in the dining room, Gwen’s voice grows louder, her commands sending the guys around the entrance hall with the garlands. She stands on the bottom step of the stairs going up the second floor, surveying the room with a slight frown. 

They pass by her on their way to the supply closet below the stairs to find the lights for the barn. 

“Your uncle Agravaine is threatening to come this year,” she says suddenly, and Arthur’s shoulders stiffen, his entire back going so tense that he looks wooden. Like a little toy soldier. 

“What? Jesus. Did he call?”

“No,” Gwen says, and her eyes go soft as she gives him a sympathetic smile. “Morgause did.”

“No.”

“She’s your aunt.”

“Step-aunt.”

“I don’t really think that’s how it works. And does it matter?”

“Well,” Arthur says. “It’s only the difference between being related to Satan and merely being related to the person Satan is fucking.”

Merlin gives a startled laugh as Gwen turns to look at Arthur, eyes wide. 

“Jesus, Arthur,” she says. “That’s drastic.”

Arthur waves Merlin over. “But completely true. Here.” He holds out a box labelled _lights_ in a hurried scrawl. “Take this with you.”

***

The only warning Merlin gets is a long, groaning sound before the wood splinters and cracks, the beam separating from the rest of the ceiling. The adrenaline rush that spins through him is unlike anything he’s ever felt, prompting him to throw his hand out, the box narrowly missing his feet. He stares in surprise when the spell freezes the beam two inches above impact before he’s even said the words. Desperate times bring out the things he didn’t know he knew, apparently.

“We should just put up fairy lights in here,” Arthur says, completely oblivious to the beam suspended in the air above him. “We don’t want it to be all gaudy and tasteless, even if Uncle Agravaine is showing his face.” 

Too shaken to reply, Merlin’s left staring, his arm shaking as he holds the beam in place with pure force of will and a little bit of magic. Not exactly how he’d thought he’d be spending his work day.

“Elena suggested candles, but it’s an old barn, for heaven’s sake. The insurance people will think we’ve burned it down on purpose.”

“Arthur,” Merlin says, his voice shaking with the strain. 

Turning around, Arthur raises his eyebrow and looks pointedly at the box on the floor. “Quit your dallying, Merlin, we have a metric ton of work to do.”

“Oh my god.” Merlin can hear his heart beating in his ears. “Will you just _fucking move_.”

Arthur’s expression hardens, his jaw locking in tension. “No matter how many liberties you take with me, I’m still your boss and this is un—”

“Please move,” Merlin grits out. He doesn’t have the energy to throw the beam elsewhere, it’s taking every bit of him to keep it still, and besides: God knows what would happen if he threw it into the wall. The whole thing might come crashing down on them. 

Maybe it’s the ‘please’, or maybe it’s Arthur finally having caught onto the fact that Merlin is standing with his arm outstretched, but Arthur’s anger fades as quickly as it came and he backs away, slowly. 

The beam crashes to the ground, splitting in two as it hits the spot Arthur is no longer standing in. Their eyes meet as the eerie quiet of the aftermath settles over the barn. Arthur’s face is pale, eyes wide, as he stares at the mangled piece of wood. 

“So,” Merlin says, his pulse still running a mile a minute. “You were saying something about lights.”

Arthur snaps out of it, steps over the shattered beam and closes his hand around Merlin’s arm, dragging him out.

“The box,” Merlin says, but Arthur doesn’t stop until they’re outside, the wind sharp and cold as Arthur slams the door behind them. 

They stand outside the barn, quietly, as the wind pulls at their clothes. Merlin can’t quite take his eyes off of Arthur, knowing that he was a second away from no longer existing. 

“At least now we know where to put Agravaine,” Merlin says. 

He wants to take it back as soon as he’s said it, knowing that the only reason all filters seem to have been obliterated is because of the adrenaline. He looks away, angry at himself for the carelessness. Arthur’s bark of laughter comes as a complete surprise, and Merlin’s eyes dart back to him. It’s a slightly hysterical laugh, his mouth too wide and his eyes too wild, but it’s better than all the alternatives and Merlin smiles, breathing easier. 

Arthur pushes him ahead as they stumble up the path, and just as they get up to the Inn, Lance and Gwen come rushing out the door. 

“What’s going on?” Gwen’s expression is slightly wild, her hand closed around a string of glitter garland. “We heard a right racket out here.”

“Merlin,” Arthur starts, but it comes out as a croak. “Merlin kind of… saved my life. I guess.”

Elbowing Arthur in the side, Merlin glares. “You _guess_?”

“Well, there’s no guaranteeing it would’ve hit me.”

“I’m pretty sure you would’ve been squashed like a bug, mate.”

Gwen and Lance just watch them before sharing a look. 

“Are you alright?” Lance says as Arthur moves past him up the stairs. “What happened?”

“One of the beams in the ceiling of the barn came loose,” Merlin says, the groaning creak still clear in his ears. “And just fell.”

“Fuck,” Gwen says. 

Arthur disappears inside without a word, and the three of them are left out on the steps in the chill. 

“I think he’s kind of shaken.” Merlin follows him with his eyes. God knows _he’s_ kind of shaken by the whole thing. 

Gwen makes a face. “Who wouldn’t be?” 

There’s a twist in his stomach, one that builds and moves, grows heavier until it’s like a lead weight in him. He wants to hunch over, or sink to his knees, but fuck, what is this? Merlin stumbles on the steps, pulled forward by something as if a rope is attached to his chest. 

There’s a distant, “Merlin?” but it sounds muted to his ears, and the hands that touch his arms are cold and useless in holding him back. 

He’s pushed forwards, and he’s just conscious enough to be terrified by the utter lack of control he has over his own limbs. Trying to hold back, he feels the fog clear a little, but the moment he finds himself inside the building, he’s yanked forward with a force that sends his arms windmilling. 

He falls, banging his knee on the wooden floors. Blinking, he rolls over, trying to catch his breath. 

“No one go in the barn!” Arthur yells, his back to Merlin as he leans into the dining room. 

“What?” Elena calls back. 

Arthur moves further into the dining room, and Merlin feels the pull in his stomach again. He grabs onto the floor for purchase, but there’s no use. He’s pulled forwards on his back, sailing across the floor as Arthur moves away. 

“Arthur!” He calls out, breathless. “Stop.”

He doesn’t stop. Mithian and Elena are in the kitchen, and that’s where Arthur seems to be heading. He doesn’t stop before Merlin has gone sailing straight into a table and its accompanying chairs, crashing into them with a slightly terrifying force. The leg of a chair hits him in the ribs so hard that breath is knocked out of him and he lets out a slightly embarrassing whimper.

“Merlin!” Arthur says, confused. He comes rushing over, kneeling down beside him where he’s curled around the chair. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Stay,” is all Merlin manages to get out, and belatedly realises how it sounds. 

The fact that Arthur’s eyes soften is mortifying. It’s the same look Arthur gave him for a whole week after Elena got drunk at the staff party and told him Merlin had fancied him since his job interview. Which had been bloody brilliant to overhear, since Arthur had just gotten engaged to Vivian the weekend before. 

He can’t take that look. He really can’t. 

Closing his eyes, he fills his lungs with blissful air a couple of times and says, “These new dining tables are lovely. Love the whole worn wood look. Very on trend.”

“Are you OK, Merlin?”

Forcing himself to open his eyes, Merlin sees Arthur leaning forwards with a deep frown, his mouth downturned. 

“Something’s not right.”

“Where does it hurt?”

“Nowhere. Well, a couple of places, but not like that.” Merlin puts one hand to the floor and pushes himself upright as Mithian and Elena come out from the kitchens. “When you moved away, something pulled at me.”

Arthur blinks, pulling away. “Don’t tell me you believe in ghosts. That’s ridiculous even for you.”

“It’s not a ghost, Jesus Christ.” Merlin gets up on wobbly feet, shaking Arthur’s hand off when he tries to steady him. “Let me show you.”

He takes long strides across the floor of the entrance hall, away from the dining room, and gets to the wide opening to the reception area before he feels a slight pull. It’s not nearly as strong as before, but he hears a yelp behind him and when he takes another step, there’s a thud. 

When he turns around, Arthur is sprawled on the floor, his face pale as he looks up at Merlin. 

“What the _hell_ is that?” He says, pushing up on his knees. “No, seriously. What the fuck.”

“I think we’re stuck.” Merlin purses his lips. “Together.”

Gwen looks between them. “What do you mean, stuck?”

“If we move too far away from each other, we’ll be pulled back together.”

“Merlin,” Arthur says, his voice dark. “This is completely and utterly unacceptable.”

“Oh yeah, sure, just let me snip this invisible line, sorry to have inconvenienced you, Your Highness!” Merlin throws his arms out. “It’s not like it’s my fault!”

Arthur huffs when he gets to his feet, and brushes his fingers over the fabric of his jeans. “Well, it’s clearly magic, whatever it is.”

“Yeah, and everything magic is automatically my fault, right? Magic is a universal force, it’s not something I personally own and decide the laws of. I’m not the Prime Minister of Magic.” Merlin pauses. “Or Minister for Magic, I guess.”

“Merlin,” Arthur says, moving closer – eventually so close that Merlin has to fight the urge to step back. “ _Winter festival_.”

It’s like blood vessels audibly pop in Merlin’s head, his teeth clamping together. “I bloody know! You idiots and your fucking festival. Settle down and shut up about it! We’re not getting anything done when you keep nattering on.”

“Guys.” Gwen puts a hand on each of their arms, pushing them apart a little. “I know this is a shitty situation, but it’s not getting any better if you start arguing. You will just have to do your work together as best you can.”

“You can call that teacher of yours to ask if there’s anything you can do,” Lance says.

Gwen turns around and points at him, giving an enthusiastic, “Yes!” and beams at them. 

“I don’t think… _Fine_ , I’ll call Gaius,” Merlin says, knowing there’s hardly any other option. 

Arthur is looking at nothing, his jaw set tight. “We can’t do our work together.” 

“Well, we don’t have a bleeding choice, do we?”

There’s an odd moment where Arthur just looks at him, and Merlin has an absurdly irrelevant thought about the colour of his eyes, which makes him want to lock himself in the supply closet and stay there _forever_. And that’s when it really hits him how much this sucks. He has to stay within a few meters of Arthur, at all times, no matter what. No breaks. No particular distance. No room to breathe. 

That’s the thing with Arthur. Merlin’s always needed room to breathe. He hasn’t struggled terribly with working for Arthur, all things considered, but he’s always had space. And yes, it had been slightly horrible to watch Arthur propose to his girlfriend down by the pond during their barbeque in June, and it has been hard to not hate Vivian for no real reason. He’s managed though.

He doesn’t know if he can manage this. 

“Let’s call Gaius,” Merlin says when Arthur grows quiet, his whole expression the picture of defeat. 

“You guys gonna be alright?” Mithian asks, hovering in the opening to the dining room, her entire being covered in flour as usual. Some of it has gotten into her hair, making her look like a really non-menacing Cruella De Ville. 

Arthur snaps out of it, turning to look at her. “Yes. For the love of God, go finish whatever you guys are doing.”

Before heading back to the kitchen, Elena winks at Merlin from her spot leaned against the wall. Merlin pretends he doesn’t see, and turns abruptly, heading towards the desk.

“Merlin!” Arthur calls and Merlin stops, turning to give him a sheepish smile. 

“Sorry.”

“Does this mean I’m off for the day?” Sefa asks, and Merlin starts a little, having forgotten she was there at all. 

“No,” Arthur says, moving up behind the desk. “We might need you in case Merlin has to follow me around. Can you go help Gwen for the time being?”

Sefa sighs, but shrugs. “Sure. As long as you pay me.”

Arthur gives her a long look as she leaves, and snorts when she’s out of earshot. “What kind of employer does she think I am?”

“I’ll refrain from answering that if you don’t mind. Might get awkward since we’re stuck.”

“Just call Gaius, wisearse. “

Arthur tinkers with his laptop while Merlin grabs the phone and calls. As he waits for Gaius to pick up, he tries to forget that Arthur is even there. Maybe it’ll go away if he ignores it. Maybe whatever magic they’re bound by will just fizzle out. 

“Gaius, thank God,” he says when Gaius finally picks up, and Arthur looks up from the screen, relief clear on his face. 

“Merlin? Aren’t you at work?”

“It’s sort of an emergency. Are you busy?”

“No, not at all. Not for an emergency, in any case. What’s wrong?”

“The thing is, it seems like Arthur and I can’t move away from each other. When either one of us tries, something pulls us back together.” He knows Arthur is paying attention, even if he pretends to be busy. “I’ve never heard of anything like this happening before.”

Gaius gives a long humming sound and Merlin catches Arthur glance at him out of the corner of his eyes. “That’s unusual.”

“I’ll say.”

“Has anything happened with your magic lately? Anything out of the ordinary?”

“No, I don’t think so. It’s been pretty much the… Oh, God.”

“What?” Gaius and Arthur both say at the same time. 

Merlin looks up and widens his eyes at Arthur. “This beam in the ceiling of the barn just cracked and almost crushed Arthur, and I stopped it. With my magic.”

“Yes, well. That’ll do it.” Gaius has the gall to sound _amused_.

“What do you mean _That’ll do it_?”

“Listen, an emergency situation where one might use magic without planning to often releases a large burst of energy. It’s hard to control, even for magic-users with experience. There’s really no telling what it can do.”

“Oh, God.” 

“What?” Arthur says again, looking pained. Merlin shushes and bats his hand at him. 

“It’s likely that part of your magic has taken refuge in Arthur, a sort of transfer of power because it didn’t know where to go.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Merlin says, panic making its way up his throat. 

“Not that I know of. It’s very likely that it will eventually pass by itself, though. I wouldn’t worry too much about it, and instead just try to wait it out.”

“Oh, good. How long?”

“That’s quite impossible to tell, I’m afraid, but I haven’t heard of this lasting for more than a few days. It’s hard to tell with you sometimes, however. Your powers are stronger than any I’ve dealt with before.”

Merlin pauses. “Really?”

“Yes, Merlin.” Gaius sounds amused. “I haven’t wanted to bring it up quite yet. We’re still in the process of figuring out the full extent of your powers. But you’re very powerful, indeed.”

“Right.” Merlin swallows, suddenly a little overwhelmed, and wraps the cord around his finger. “So just wait it out?”

“Nothing else to do, I’m afraid.”

“Thank you, Gaius.”

When he hangs up, Arthur has given up any pretence of being busy. He stares at Merlin, his jaw tight as he gnaws at his lip. 

“So. It appears that it might actually be my magic’s fault. Kind of. I mean, using magic spontaneously the way I did in the barn has somehow bound us together. But it’ll disappear.”

“Disappear,” Arthur parrots, frowning.

“Yes. By itself. But we don’t know when.”

“Merlin, you’re a fucking idiot.”

“Right,” Merlin says, his cheeks flushing with anger. “Because clearly, I should’ve just let you die. That’s what I should’ve done. I should’ve just watched while your skull got bashed in by a falling beam, staring uselessly at you as you crumpled to the floor and bled to death.”

Arthur seems to deflate, his shoulders hunching a little as he looks down at the laptop. “Right. I… yeah.”

“Yeah,” Merlin says, turning away.

***

They work in silence after that. While Merlin keeps up with his duties at the desk, Arthur has enough leeway to sit by the table in the reception area, his papers spread out over the surface. Sometimes they look at each other, briefly, but only long enough to be caught looking.

In the end, the odd tension is broken by Vivian, only to be replaced by another, even worse tension. 

Merlin ducks his head at the sight of her, but not before he sees her smile. The worst is that Vivian is sweet, really. She’s not the brightest person he’s ever met, and she’s probably one of the poshest (Arthur included), but he’s never seen her be anything but pleasant. There’s something really endearing about her that makes him hate himself more than he hates her. 

This shit is confusing. 

“Hi,” she says, her voice quiet. She looks up and meets Merlin’s eyes, smiling. 

“Hi, Viv.” Arthur leans back on the sofa they have in the waiting area, putting down the paper he’d been looking at. 

“I know you’re busy.” She takes a seat next to Arthur. “Thanks for letting me come, this is literally the only free time I have all day, and for the rest of the week, for that matter. Deadline’s coming up.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not that busy.”

Merlin looks at him, incredulous, but Arthur studiously ignores him. As he sees the two of them sitting on the sofa, Merlin feels like he’s intruding. Which is ridiculous, because it’s not like they’re doing anything private. They’re just sitting. That’s it. But still. 

He tries to busy himself in his work, and not listen to them talk. It’s not too difficult, because they talk in hushed voices, sitting close together. It’s a lot harder to not look at them. They’ve always looked spectacular together – two blonde deities of attractiveness that make everyone coo with how perfect they are. 

The room suddenly seems much too small. He looks out the window, wishing he could go outside for a breath of fresh air, just to clear his head. It’s impossible to know where to put his eyes, and he feels overly conscious about every movement he makes. If only he could have a moment to _breathe_. He edges towards the entrance hall, hoping against all hope that the magic has worn off. But he feels the tug when he gets too far, and when he turns around, Arthur is looking at him with his eyebrows pulled together.

“Sorry,” Merlin mouths, ducking his head. 

It’s clear that there are only a few meters of leeway between them. Maybe five, at best. Enough that they can stand outside the bathroom door when the other is in there, but not enough to span the width of any bigger room. 

It limits their options a lot.

He glances up at Arthur and Vivian from time to time, always finding them in deep conversation. He supposes Arthur has a lot to explain. 

Thankfully, he’s distracted by the doorbell tinkling, and a couple coming through the door, heading straight for the desk. 

“Welcome to Camelot Inn!” He says, smiling widely. 

By the time he’s checked them in and is panicking slightly about how to get them to their rooms when he’s attached to Arthur by an unbreakable string, Vivian has gone.

***

“Come along. I’m going home.”

Merlin pauses, hand on the receiver. “Absolutely not.”

“What?”

“Who says we’re going to yours?”

Arthur stiffens, and Merlin is pretty sure his eyelid twitches. 

“This has been a _really_ long day, Merlin. Don’t fucking start.”

“I’m serious, you nitwit. I want to go home and finish my book and hang on _my_ sofa.”

“My sofa’s better, anyway.”

“Wow, right, who gives a fuck about Merlin, the second-class citizen, wanting to go home to his subpar flat.”

Arthur sighs. “That’s not what I meant.”

“You know, we can’t put much distance between us. I’d probably have to stay inside your bedroom. Yours and Vivian’s bedroom,” Merlin says, skin prickling at the mere thought. 

Arthur says nothing at that, but looks away. 

“As hilarious as this is,” Elena says, grinning, “someone cancelled.” She slams a room key down on the desk. “We’ve all collectively decided that you’re staying there. Both of you. Neither of you get to go home. No arguments.”

They share a look as Elena stares them down, and finally Merlin shrugs. It’s with a strange mix of guilt and relief that he watches Arthur’s hunched shoulders. They’ll both be trapped here, but at least it’s neutral ground and when this is all over, he won’t have the image of Arthur in Merlin’s bed burned into his head forever. 

“Fine,” Arthur says, grabbing the key.

***

“You’re not bullying me out of the bed,” Merlin says and throws himself onto the covers, bouncing a little. They’re a dark, dark blue and way more comfortable than he’d ever realised.

Arthur steps inside, closes the door, and remains standing in the middle of the room, looking lost. “Fine.” He drags a hand over his face. 

“Look, it’s more than big enough. We can both sleep in the bed.”

“I know. I’m not planning to sleep on the floor, no matter how many doe eyes you try to give me.”

Merlin sputters. “I don’t make doe eyes!”

Arthur walks slowly towards the bed and sits down at the foot of it, letting himself fall back. He closes his eyes and folds his hands over his stomach. Leaning back against the headboard, Merlin looks at him, for the first time truly noticing how utterly tired Arthur looks. 

He frowns and turns his attention away, looking out the window at the darkness falling over the garden. 

“Why have you been so stressed about this winter festival?” He asks, not looking in Arthur’s direction. 

It takes a while before Arthur says, “Because there’s a lot to do.”

“There’s always a lot to do. And you’re never quite like this.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything to that. They remain quiet, even as Merlin deeply regrets not bringing his book to work. There’s even silence when they both use the bathroom in turn, the other staying as far away as possible, but still awkwardly close. Merlin tries not to think about it. 

They strip down enough to not be unbearably hot, but still stay within the limits of comfort. Merlin wears his button down shirt over his boxers, as does Arthur, and Merlin tries _so hard_ not to look. 

He looks. Arthur’s legs are long and muscular and perfect and Merlin hates everything in the universe. 

It’s quiet until they turn off the lights. When they no longer have to look at each other and Merlin can almost pretend he’s alone, words come easier. 

“I’m sorry. About all this,” he says, stumbling a little over the first syllable. 

“Don’t,” Arthur says, and Merlin both hears and feels him shift. “You saved my life.”

“Yeah. I guess I did do that.”

He’s hit in the face with a pillow and he sputters indignantly. Grabbing the corner of the pillow under his head, he aims at where he figures Arthur’s face is, and cackles when Arthur yelps. 

Merlin raises his pillow to hit again, swings it down, and is about to let out a deep, joyous laugh when Arthur says, “Viv and I broke it off.”

The pillow makes impact, but barely. It goes limp in Merlin’s hands as he pretty much stops breathing. 

“I haven’t told anyone.” Arthur is barely visible in the darkness. Merlin can see the shape of him now that his eyes have adjusted. “You asked why I’ve been so stressed about the festival. I just… I’ve been trying to focus on something else.”

“Arthur,” Merlin croaks, but Arthur just keeps talking over him. 

“It wasn’t even a bad break up. It just sort of happened, you know? I just stopped thinking of us, long term. It’s kind of a problem when you stop including your fiancée in your plans for the future.”

Merlin closes his eyes, not knowing what to think, let alone what to say. He sinks into the mattress, going almost boneless. 

“It’s still awful, though. I’ve been feeling kind of like… like I took a wrong turn off the motorway and now the landscape’s all different and there’s no way to get back.”

Merlin’s throat is dry when he finds his voice. “Do you want to go back?” 

“No, not really. It’s just weird, not going back. It’s… I don’t know.”

Thinking back on all the shit he’s given Arthur for obsessing about the winter festival, Merlin wants to sink into a hole in the bed and disappear. He didn’t know – of course he didn’t. But now he can’t stop thinking about how tired Arthur looked, how stressed he’s been. 

“She came by earlier to have me sign papers. We sold the flat.” Arthur looks at the ceiling, gaze unmoving. “Tonight’s the last night in it.”

Merlin swallows down the bile of guilt in the back of his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Probably for the best, actually,” Arthur says.

Merlin moves his hand, just a little, just enough to rest the back of it against Arthur’s. His heart beats too fast. He waits for Arthur to pull away, to ask him to stop, but it never happens. Instead, Arthur pushes back into his touch. Merlin smiles into the dark, not moving a muscle. 

He doesn’t know what it means. And in the morning, he still won’t know what it means as they get dressed for another day of work, the magic still keeping them tethered together.

***

“I just need one measly little moment. Just one _tiny_ —” Merlin holds up fingers to show the very small amount he means. “—second alone.”

Elena licks her spoon clean of icing. “I’m sure Arthur would turn around and let you wank in peace if you asked nicely.”

Merlin drops his head onto the table, and bangs his forehead against it a second time, just for good measure. Behind him, Arthur chokes on his spit. Elena grins, utterly pleased with herself. 

“Thank you,” Merlin deadpans. 

That’s just what he needs, really: to be reminded of the amount of awkward boners they’ve had to deal with the past two days. Probably mostly his. They’re hard to avoid. Waking up next to Arthur makes him feel electrified and calm all at the same time, and it’s an all too real taste of what he wants them to be. 

He goes to bed with Arthur, he wakes up with Arthur, but he can’t touch him. It doesn’t mean anything. 

He’d thought watching Arthur get engaged was bad, but this, this is like being at the bottom of a rugby pile (Merlin’s tried that. It’s not recommended). 

Elena pats his arm. “You should listen to me more.”

Behind him, Arthur gets up. He’d sat down a couple of tables away, as far as he could, to give them both a bit of a breather. “Break’s over.”

“Five more minutes,” Merlin pleads, gripping the table. 

He thinks he’s won when he hears nothing else, only to fall to the floor with a loud yelp and feel the pull drag him along. Elena laughs as he’s dragged out of the dining room.

“You’re the worst.” Merlin clambers to his feet and rights his sweater. 

Arthur looks the picture of innocence. “Just go get the gold ornaments and I’ll get the red ones, and get to work.” 

Merlin doesn’t argue. The arguments are getting a little old. He grabs the box and sets it near the tree, taking out two little orbs of gold, holding them by the string. The tree is tall, and there’s a ladder between them that Merlin eyes a little uncertainly. 

“I’ll start up top.”

Merlin shrugs, trying not to show his relief. “Alright.”

As Arthur moves up the steps, Merlin looks up and reaches out to hold it steady. “And yes, I know I should use my magic, just like everyone keeps telling me, let’s not go there.”

“You weren’t hired for your magic,” Arthur says, reaching as far as he can to place a red ornament near the top. “And you’re not out of training yet.”

Merlin’s arm falls limply to his side as he stares, lost for words.

“What?” Arthur looks down at him, eyebrows raised.

“Nothing. I just…” He reaches out and hangs an ornament onto a nearby branch. “No one usually gets it.”

Arthur suddenly smiles at him, all oddly genuine – like nothing Merlin’s ever seen directed at him before, and he fumbles with the ornament in his hand, nearly dropping it. 

“When do you get certified?” Arthur asks. 

“Oh. Uh, in the spring?” Merlin bends down to fill his hands with as many ornaments as he can. “If I pass all my tests. I’ve been practising a lot, though. Gaius thinks I’ll make it.”

“Let me know when you get the date.”

“Sure. Why?”

Arthur shrugs. “Thought we could hold the date in the Inn’s calendar. Have a party here. You can invite your mum to stay over.”

An ornament falls out of Merlin’s hands and crashes to the floor. He stares down at the jagged pieces against the wood, fighting back a lick of magic that threatens to break out of its secure place. 

“Really?” he says, swallowing. 

“Of course.” 

“I’d like that. Yeah, that’d be nice.”

Arthur gives a half-smile and then notices the broken ornament at Merlin’s feet. “Honestly, Merlin, how are you going to pass your tests if you can’t even handle Christmas ornaments?”

***

Merlin burrows into the covers and watches, as subtly as he can, as Arthur slips his jeans off. After the first day, they’d taken a trip to both their flats to get t-shirts to sleep in. Arthur’s clothes had mostly been in boxes and Merlin had pretended not to notice as Arthur rummaged in one to find his clothes. It seems like pretending not to notice things has become a general theme of his life.

He gets a glimpse of Arthur’s thighs before Arthur slips in under the covers. That little glimpse never gets old. They’re thick and muscular, and Merlin wants to straddle them, or lick a path up the inside of them. 

At first, his attraction to Arthur had been purely physical. Which, in his defence, wasn’t that strange because Arthur had been a right dick during his interview. A gorgeous dick with excellent thighs. But working with Arthur for two years has shown him a lot of things. Arthur is prickly, defensive and hard to get to know. But getting to know him is worth it.

Arthur hums a little in contentment as he shifts under the covers, getting comfortable. The more Merlin goes to sleep with Arthur next to him, the more it feels like the way it should be. He has to remind himself, over and over, that it’s not real – it’s only temporary. 

When Arthur turns to look at him, it gets a lot harder to convince himself it doesn’t mean anything. 

“Winter festival starts tomorrow,” Merlin says, because he can’t handle just lying there, looking at each other. 

“And we’re still stuck.” 

“Pretty much.”

Arthur sighs. “It’s going to be a nightmare.”

“Probably.” 

They fall quiet, and just look at each other for a moment. Merlin curls up on his side, nuzzling into the pillow. 

“Good night,” Arthur says, voice quiet. 

“Night.”

***

They discover that the bond is broken by accident. It happens after Merlin has suffered through having to stand outside the bathroom and listen to Arthur having a shower. Ever since this whole thing started, Merlin has opted to shower second, so he can have a really quiet wank to get rid of the impractical hard-on he gets from listening to water slide down the length of Arthur’s body.

So, it’s after he suffers through all that again for another day, that they find out the bond is gone. 

“You must look at the radiator in our room, it’s much too hot,” Mrs Stephenson says and pushes him towards the stairs even as he tries to protest. 

In the other end of the entrance hall, Arthur is following Mithian towards the dining room, not realising that Merlin is being dragged off. Merlin waits for the nauseating pull in his stomach, but it doesn’t come. Nothing holds them together, and the distance grows larger than it has been in days. 

He stops on the stairs, even as Mrs Stephenson complains. 

“Arthur!” he calls, and sees Arthur’s eyes widen as he looks up. Merlin waves. A smile spreads over Arthur’s face and something in Merlin twists at how happy Arthur is to be separated. 

And he is happy too. He is. Because who wants to be tied to someone else every hour of the day? But still. 

He follows Mrs Stephenson up to look at her radiator even though he has no bloody clue how they work and can’t do a single thing about it. 

“I’ll have Lance come check it out for you,” Merlin says, which is the same thing he would’ve said if she hadn’t dragged him off to her room. 

“Are you sure you can’t do anything right now?” She frowns down at the radiator, touching two fingers to her lips. 

“Quite sure, Ma’am. Unless you want me to break it permanently.”

Eventually, she lets him leave to do his own job, and he sends Lance up as quickly as he can. 

It only dawns on him after a few hours that he hasn’t seen Arthur since they parted ways. It feels odd now, to not have Arthur sit near him doing his work, or work with him. Not like it had been very productive, it had mostly been wildly chaotic and he’s sure Gwen has got a few more grey hairs over the last few days. But it’s still strange to be alone after four days glued to Arthur’s side. 

_It didn’t mean anything._

He writes it on a post-it note to remind himself. Going to bed with Arthur, working side by side, waking up together – it didn’t mean anything. It meant nothing. Not a thing. 

There’s a rush of guests coming in to stay for Albion village’s winter festival, as usual. A line quickly forms by Merlin’s desk around noon and he doesn’t have time to do much else but glance at the post-it now and again. He doesn’t even have time to go the bathroom, let alone think. 

It’s only when the last guest is settled in their room that he has the time to sneak into the kitchens for a cup of coffee. Elena is there, looking over the menus as Mithian bustles around, her hair a complete mess.

“Hi, Merlin,” Mithian says, out of breath as she rushes past. “Can’t talk!”

He laughs – it’s freeing and makes him feel just a little lighter. “Just get me coffee.”

Elena hands him a cup before Mithian can even answer and he gives a grateful smile. 

“I see you’ve lost your owner,” she says, smirking. 

He swallows down a mouthful of coffee. It’s way too hot and he burns his tongue on it, wincing. “Yeah.”

“Oh, sweetie.” She reaches out and runs a hand over his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” he says. “It’s great, I’ve gotten so much work done.”

She shakes her head and smiles sadly at him. Her look of pity settles on him, heavy, and it reminds him that too many people know how he feels about Arthur – including Arthur. Maybe, after he gets certified and the Inn has held his party, he’ll take a position somewhere with his new credentials. 

“Maybe if you just—”

“Please don’t,” he interrupts and sets his eyes on her. “He already knows. If he wanted anything, he’d have done something about it a long time ago.”

She nods, then, her lips pursed. “Maybe.” She looks up over his shoulder and he feels mortification fill him up until he nearly suffocates on it. Of course Arthur would stand behind him and hear this. 

His heart skips in surprise when he hears Gwen. “They’re almost done with the opening down at the village. The ice skating rink opens in twenty.”

“Alright, we’re almost good to go,” Elena says. “Mithian’s got the biscuits and hot chocolate ready in ten.” 

“Brilliant. I’ve got to run and help the lads.”

Merlin remembers to breathe again. 

“Alright, you heard the lady,” Elena says, ushering him out of his seat. “Ice skating rink in twenty.”

“I’m going, I’m going! Chill.”

He can still hear her laugh when he leaves, her voice barely audible when she says, “Really, Merlin? _Chill_?”

It becomes his job to find the rest of their guests and remind them that the ice skating rink opens soon. He ushers the last ones out (a lingering Mrs Stephenson and her husband, as they’d been looking for her favourite scarf) just as Mithian and Elena come carrying the biscuits and the hot chocolate. He holds the door open for them. 

“Come on,” Mithian says. “You’ll miss it.”

“I’ll be there in a second, I just need to get my skates.”

Merlin lets the door fall shut after them and heads to the reception area. All the staff had put their skates in the back room behind the desk days ago, and he plans to just pop right in when he notices Arthur standing by the desk. He’s wearing his black winter coat, but he doesn’t have his skates.

“Hey,” Merlin says. “Didn’t you find them?”

His heart jumps into his throat when he comes close enough to see that Arthur’s holding a yellow post-it note. Immediately, his palms go clammy. Arthur looks up at him, face unreadable, and Merlin catches enough of the scribbles on it to confirm that it’s the one that reads _It didn’t mean anything_. He’d even underlined it twice during the day. 

“Uhm, I’ll just go get my skates,” Merlin says, pointing at the door to the back room. 

He fumbles his way inside and lets the door fall shut behind him, his hands moving over the shelves and the wall to find the light. He finally finds the switch and a dim, yellow glow comes on overhead. Heart hammering in his chest, he presses his forehead to a nearby shelf and takes a deep breath. 

It’s not that bad. If anything, it’s pretty inconclusive. It could mean anything, really, and would never hold up in court. If Arthur asks he’ll just make something up. 

He bangs his head against the shelf when the door flies open. “Bugger _fuck_ ,” he says, touching the crown of his head gingerly with a light finger. 

Arthur comes into the small room, and it’s like the air is immediately sucked out the moment the door falls shut again. His hair haloed by the light coming from above, and Merlin has a hysterical urge to laugh. 

Merlin watches him, unable to look away and not sure what to say. He watches while Arthur looks back at him, when Arthur moves closer and when he opens his mouth as if to speak, only to close it again. 

He watches when Arthur reaches out to hold his face between his hands, and when Arthur licks his lips. 

He stops watching when Arthur surges forward and covers Merlin’s lips with his. 

The fabric of Arthur’s winter coat is coarse under his fingers as he clutches at his sides, and his lips are indescribably soft and warm. He feels safe with Arthur’s hands on his skin, angling his head. 

And, _God_. He sways on his feet, a little overcome with the touch of lips on his. The pressure of them makes his chest tight and warm. Arthur’s arms move to wrap around his back, holding him close until they’re pressed together and Arthur is everywhere. 

Merlin hooks one arm around Arthur’s waist, opening his lips under the kiss, wanting Arthur even closer. He wants to go to sleep with Arthur wishing him good night, and he wants to wake up to Arthur grunting as he rolls over. He wants Arthur’s golden hair to be the first thing he sees, and he wants it to mean something. 

When the kiss breaks, Arthur leans his forehead against Merlin’s, their breaths shallow and quick. Merlin’s lips stretch into a smile that makes his face ache. 

“I threw away your note,” Arthur says, voice quiet and a little hoarse. 

Merlin opens his eyes and he goes cross-eyed trying to meet Arthur’s. He laughs. “Okay.”

He’s about to make a joke about never getting to keep anything around here, but it disappears into nothing when Arthur pushes him back against the wall and presses open-mouthed kisses to his jaw. Merlin’s breath stutters in his chest and his fingers clutch at the back of Arthur’s coat. Arthur’s mouth leaves a wet trail down his neck that makes him shiver. 

Threading his fingers into Arthur’s hair, he pulls on it until Arthur looks up and he leans in to kiss Arthur, all open lips and tongue. He whimpers slightly when he meets the tip of Arthur’s tongue and Arthur crowds him against the wall. Breathing in, he’s overcome with the smell of Arthur. 

His skin feels electrified as the kiss turns messy, Arthur’s lips moving hot and insistent over his. When Arthur’s hand slips under his shirt and brushes over his skin, his breath stutters and he hums into it, licking at the roof of Arthur’s mouth. 

When Arthur’s fingers slip under the waist of his jeans, he breaks the kiss and looks at Arthur, trying to catch his breath. 

“Please don’t do this if you don’t mean it,” Merlin says, because he knows, that after the past few days, he couldn’t handle it. 

Arthur pauses and meets his eyes, splaying his fingers over Merlin’s stomach, making his muscles jump under the touch. “I wouldn’t.”

“Good.” Merlin moves his hand in under Arthur’s coat to twist in his shirt. “Do feel free to get on with it if you mean it.”

Arthur snorts, nuzzling against Merlin’s cheek. “Impatient.”

“Well, I’ve been waiting.”

There’s no answer, but Arthur angles his head and presses a kiss to his cheek. Heat swells in Merlin’s chest, and he can’t do anything but kiss Arthur again and just let himself go. Any attempts there might have been to hold back are left behind when Arthur pops the button of his jeans open and looks at him with so much _intent_. 

“Did you really think I didn’t hear you wanking in the shower?” Arthur says with a wicked smile as he palms Merlin’s cock through his boxers. 

Merlin arches into it, biting his lip as he forces back a moan. “I did. Think that, I mean.” 

Arthur laughs, holding himself up with a hand to the wall right over Merlin’s shoulder as he runs his thumb down the outline of Merlin’s rapidly hardening cock. “I had to stand outside the door, listening to your little bitten-off moans. Drove me fucking crazy.”

“Well, boo-fucking-hoo,” Merlin says, looking down at the exact moment Arthur slips the waistline of his boxers down. “You’re not the one who had to watch you undress every night with your stupid perfect thighs.”

Arthur arches his eyebrows at him. “My thighs?”

“Shut up,” Merlin says, and chases him for a kiss that only ends up with Arthur laughing against his mouth. 

“Your fingers,” Arthur says, and Merlin furrows his brow, confused. He wonders if he zoned out for a moment because the tip of Arthur’s finger brushed the head of his cock. He might have. 

“What?”

“I think about your fingers.”

Merlin’s lips spread into a wide, satisfied smile as he brings his hand up to splay his fingers out over Arthur’s cheek. He runs one finger down the line of Arthur’s cheekbones before pushing the pad of his thumb against Arthur’s bottom lip. 

Arthur’s eyes flutter closed, and when he gives a breathy, “Fuck you,” Merlin laughs, delighted. 

His laughter dies when Arthur wraps his hand around Merlin’s cock, thumb brushing over the head. Merlin lets his head fall back against the wall and looks up at the ceiling, blinking against the light as low thrums of pleasure radiate across his skin. It feels like he has too little room inside himself as Arthur slides his hand over him, pace too slow and teasing. 

Merlin presses his eyes closed and tries to calm his breath, overwhelmed by the warm pressure of Arthur’s hand. He’s grabbing at Arthur’s shoulder as if it’s the only thing grounding him. 

“Shit,” he says, voice shaky as Arthur slowly speeds up, his fist tight and perfect. 

Merlin’s hips move up into his grip just as Arthur leans in to mouth along his jaw. As he’s licking at Merlin’s earlobe, Arthur’s breath is hot on his skin. 

“So good, Merlin. Fuck,” he whispers. 

Pre-come makes Arthur’s grip slicker and faster, and Merlin’s pulse is racing so hard he thinks he might pass out. He twists his fingers into Arthur’s hair, moving his hips in time with Arthur’s hand until the pressure swells in his gut. 

Arthur nuzzles against his cheek. “Unbutton me. Please.”

Merlin groans, not knowing if he has the presence of mind for that at all, but he fumbles for the button of Arthur’s jeans. It gives him trouble, enough to give him to think about what he’s doing. He’s thought about this so many times he’s lost count. His hand shakes with the thought that it’s finally happening, and he pulls the zip down immediately. Slipping his hand into Arthur’s boxers, he closes his fingers around Arthur’s cock, fully hard and leaking over his skin. 

It’s warm and silky under his touch, and it’s all that it takes for him to come all over Arthur’s hand, his breath stopping as he arches up. His lips fall open, and he whines when Arthur leans in and licks at his bottom lip. 

“Oh my god,” he says, voice shaky. 

He goes boneless against the wall, and barely manages to hold onto Arthur’s dick as Arthur fucks into his fist. Forcing his eyes open, he watches as Arthur’s mouth falls open. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth kissed raw, and he’s the most beautiful thing Merlin has ever seen. 

Arthur meets his eyes, and Merlin brings his free hand up to his own mouth, pushing two fingers past his lips. He hollows his mouth around them, making a slurping sound that is both obscene and a little ridiculous. 

It makes Arthur come all over his hand.

***

He’s buzzing all over, warm and cold and electric, when he comes down to the ice skating rink with Arthur following right behind him.

“Where on earth have you been?” Elena asks, skating up to the side. “Gwen had to do the grand opening, we didn’t have time to wait for you to show your lazy arses up in here.”

Merlin just grins madly, and he knows he’s being the biggest dork on the planet, but it’s really just a question of not caring at all. 

“Are you going to yell at us, or are you going to let us skate?” Merlin raises his eyebrow at her.

“Well, I don’t actually know right now. I’m tempted to just let you stand there.”

Merlin huffs, sits down on the bench by the rink and starts pulling on his skates. Next to him, Arthur does the same, and they look at each other for long enough to make Merlin’s cheeks flush again. 

“The lazy bastards are here!” Elena calls out, and Arthur shushes her. 

“Jesus, Elena, we have guests.” 

Merlin wobbles as he gets up, his skates digging into the soil. Once he gets them on the ice, though, he feels steadier. He makes a circle, smiling at Gwen who comes speeding up to him. 

“There’s hot chocolate over there. I can’t vouch for how hot it is anymore, mind you.” 

“I’ll just skate. Been waiting all year for this,” he says, moving a little to get used to the feeling. 

“Right? It’s always my favourite part of the festival.”

Merlin glides away from her, finding his footing and moving steadily across the ice with his arms spread to either side. He skates behind one of the couples from the Inn, exchanging a couple of words with them before gliding past. 

When he looks up, Arthur is skating towards him, his hair pushed sideways by the breeze. He’s flushed and smiling and Merlin thinks he might be his. It makes his heart clench as he glides along easily. 

When they meet, Arthur reaches out and curls his fingers in Merlin’s scarf, pulling him closer. The corner of his lips is pulled into a lopsided smile before he leans in and gives him a swift kiss. 

He holds out his hand, and Merlin takes it.


End file.
